


Green Death

by 50251sid



Category: The Borgias, The Borgias (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fever Dreams, Gen, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/50251sid/pseuds/50251sid





	Green Death

_When I am gone from this world_

_I hope people will say of me:_

_He was ferociously smart._

_He loved to laugh._

_He spoke like a poet._

_He was mysterious._

_He was elusive._

_This is what I hope people will say of me._

_But what they will actually say…_

_Well, who gives a shit?_

_I will be dead._

 

 

So okay.

I’m fascinated with Cesare Borgia. 

Oh, admit it!  I’m captivated, riveted, enthralled…I’m nuts about him!

On my wall, a poster from “Assassin’s Creed” of a menacingly glamorous dark figure.

On my laptop screen, a fatally gorgeous bearded face with wicked cobra eyes and framed by long, lustrous black hair.

On my cell phone screen, the same face. 

In my room, all around me – books.

“Cesare Borgia:  The True Story.”

“The Borgia Family:  The True Story.”

“The Black Duke:  The True Story.”

“Lord of the Romagna:  The True Story.”

“The Borgia Warrior:  The True Story.”

I read every one of those damn books, and they all end the same way.  He dies in that lousy ravine at Viana when his worthless-ass soldiers fail to follow him and he is set upon by cowards who attack him en masse. 

I can’t stand it.  It’s like reading the story of the Crucifixion.  You know he dies in the end, but you hope he won’t. 

So here I am, feeling wretched, stuck in my room with a lousy head cold and a bottle of NyQuil and thoughts of Cesare Borgia.  I gulp a big mouthful of the Green Death, straight from the bottle, and the next thing I know…

 

I am astride a fast-galloping horse whom I am urging on to catch up with a hard-charging figure on a big black stallion several lengths ahead of me.  The rider wears chain mail and a dark breastplate, and his cloak is red and yellow.  OMG!  It’s Cesare Borgia.  Riding hell for leather into the ravine at Viana, heedless of the fact that his “followers” have failed to follow him.  There’s just me.  I turn my head and scream curses at the troops as they hang back.  I call them cowards, bastards, sons of whores.  The wind rushing past my face steals my words, but I continue to pour out invectives.  Cesare is set upon by three of Beaumonte’s knights and swords clash.

“I’ll defend you, Lord Cesare,” I shout and lay about me with my sword like a berserker Viking. 

Inspired (or perhaps shamed) by my derring-do, Cesare’s soldiers finally rouse themselves and ride to the rescue.  Beaumonte and his men retreat. 

Cesare is alive.  I dismount and take a knee, bowing my head before the great lord. 

He jumps from his horse and pulls me to my feet, clapping me on the shoulder, which sends me staggering.

“My thanks, young warrior!  Remove your helmet and let me see my savior.”

I try to refuse, but he will not hear of it.  Reluctantly, I raise my face shield and pull off my helmet.  My long womanly hair tumbles down, revealing my true gender.  Cesare shouts in amazement.

“Behold, you soldiers!  A mere girl shows you the way to fight.  Feel shame!”

And then, to my absolute astonishment, the great Lord Borgia goes down on one knee to me and kisses my hand.   

 

The bed is shaking.  I realize I have been struggling with the sheets.  I have to pee.  I stagger to the bathroom.  Returning to the warm cave of the bedclothes, I drift off again, and the next thing I know…

 

It is predawn, made even darker by a driving rainstorm.  Beaumonte’s supply caravan is making a run for the fortress.  Wearing my armor and helmet, I rush to Lord Borgia’s tent and demand to see him. 

The sentry kicks at me. 

“Begone, little dog.  Lord Borgia is sleeping.  He has no time for the likes of you.”

“I must speak with him.  He must know what is happening.”

The sentry gives me a hard shove.

“I said go away!”

“Wait!” 

A velvet baritone voice with the ease of long-practiced authority halts the rough sentry.

“What must I know, young one?”

“Beaumonte’s men are heading for the fortress to deliver supplies.  But it’s a ruse.  They seek to draw you out.  There is a plot among your officers, Lord Borgia.  When you ride towards the stronghold, your men will hold back and you will be left alone and undefended.  You will be assassinated!”

“How do you know this, soldier?”

“I overheard, my lord.”

“Who plots my death?”

I tell him.  He calls for his captain, Micheletto, and orders him to arrest the conspirators.  They are put to torture.  I beg the honor of tightening the thumbscrews with my own hands.  They confess and are immediately executed.  Lord Borgia claps me on the shoulder, which sends me staggering. 

“My thanks, young warrior!  Remove your helmet and let me see my savior.”

I try to refuse, but he will not hear of it.  Reluctantly, I raise my face shield and pull off my helmet.  My long womanly hair tumbles down, revealing my true gender.  Cesare shouts in amazement.

“Behold, you soldiers!  A mere girl shows you how to be loyal.  Feel shame!”

And then, to my absolute astonishment, the great Lord Borgia goes down on one knee to me and kisses my hand.   

 

I wake up coughing so hard I gag.  I go pee again and swig another jolt of NyQuil, and the next thing I know…

 

Cesare Borgia is so far ahead of me that I know I will never catch up to him.  All I can do is get close enough to see one of Beaumonte’s men plunging a lance into the Dark Lord’s body, just under his arm where his chain mail can’t protect him.  He is unseated from his horse and struggles to his feet.  Although he fights valiantly, there are just too many attackers and his wounds too serious.  I scream in anguish and call down curses.  Cesare’s murderers strip his splendid body of armor and clothes and leave him lying naked in the ravine.  One of the men, in perhaps a kind of tribute, covers his private parts with a flat rock.  I am hysterical, raving at them, but I am so insignificant that they ignore me and ride away with their spoils.  They do not even know whom they have killed.  Some of Cesare’s troops finally, too late, come forward and retrieve his body, bearing it back to his tent.  I follow after them, tearing my hair, waving my arms, damning them all to hell for the cowards they are.  Everyone ignores me.  Cesare is laid on a table in his tent and everyone disappears, feeling shame.  I cover him with his cloak.  My wild weeping has now slowed down to racking sobs.

“My Lord Cesare, I am so sorry.  I couldn’t get to you in time.  You were alone to face your enemies.  I failed you.”

Cesare sits up.  He is pale, as pale as…well, a ghost.  His body is riddled with stab wounds and his eyes are blue-white.  When he speaks, it is in English, colloquial English, slang English.

“Hey, kiddo.  No need to cry.  I saw what you tried to do.  Thanks.”

“Your goddam men…they betrayed you.  They hung back so you’d be out there alone.”

“I know.  I knew they would.”

“You allowed it?”

“Yeah.  Hey, my life was over anyway.  My dukedom gone, my money gone, my supporters gone.  I always used to say ‘better to die in the saddle than in bed.’ I think I put up one hell of a fight before I finally went down.”

“You did, my lord.”

“Oh, call me Cesare.  Where I am, all those titles and crap don’t mean much anymore.”

I start to cry again. 

“Jeez, kid, you bawl at the drop of a hat.  It’s okay.  Really.”

“But Cesare, you’re dead!”

“Honey, I didn’t die today.  I became immortal.  Wait till you see the books that will be written about me.  Movies.  Video games.  TV series.  Hundreds of years from now, people will still be talking about me.”

“Live fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse.”

“Bingo!  You got it.  And I recognize you.  You’re my biggest fan.”

“Aw, thanks.  I really do have a thing for you.  Could I ask you a question or two?”

“Sure.  Go ahead.”

“Were you as evil as people say?”

“Honey, I was as evil as I needed to be.  Sure, I scared a lot of people.  But many in the lands I conquered liked my rule.  I brought order and I was fair.  A lot of towns fought to remain in my corner.”

“Who killed Juan?”

“Good question.  Lots of folks had reason to.  Let’s just say I was never directly accused.  By the way, that TV series about us was wrong … Juan didn’t have syphilis.  I had syphilis.”

“You?  How did that happen?”

“I went to Naples and was a bad boy.  Nasty disease.  Played hell with Italy.  Had Juan lived longer, he no doubt would have gotten it too.”

“Did you like how they portrayed you in that series?”

“Well, the kid who played me looked nothing like me, but I hear the women went batshit over him, so that’s pretty good.”

“Were you and the Pope poisoned at Cardinal Castelli’s banquet?”

“I really don’t know for sure.  A lot of people at that dinner got sick.  It probably was malaria, but then again….  Are you feeling better now?  I really shouldn’t hang around here too long, but I wanted to make sure my biggest fan was all right.  C’mere.  Give me your hand.”

I approach and extend my arm.  Cesare takes my hand and kisses it. 

“You’re okay, kid.  Thanks for keeping my memory alive.”

“I love you, Cesare Borgia.”

“Right back atcha.”

“Could I ask you one last question?”

“Sure.”

“You and Lucrezia…were the two of you….?”

“Oh, hell yeah! Best thing that ever happened to me.  So long, kid.  Keep it going.”

“Goodbye, Cesare.”

He lies back down and is still.  I close his eyes tenderly and kiss his forehead before I cover him up.

 

I am swimming up through depths of dark green water.  My head breaks the surface and I gulp for air.  My nose is stuffed.  I have to pee.

 

Returning from the bathroom, I notice my laptop has on its own sprung to life and is displaying a fatally gorgeous bearded face framed by long, lustrous black hair.  A pair of wicked cobra eyes wink at me and an elegant hand gives me a thumbs-up.

 

I pick up the bottle of NyQuil to read the label.  What is _in_ this stuff?


End file.
